


Dying To Meet You

by ceilingfan5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, No Real Angst, Pining, Zombie Apocalypse, asahi is a good friend, commission, gay even in the zombie apocalypse, no one you know is dead, some violence, tbh this is pretty fluffy for a zombie au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the zombie apocalypse, Yachi is desperately, helplessly in love with Kiyoko. But will she live long enough to see her again? This could be the worst possible time for love, or maybe it's the one time love has never mattered more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying To Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for jean-bo-peep and their awesome zombie au! Want to see more or in love with the idea of getting a fic for your own pet project/favorite trope? My commissions will be $2 off for all of February!  
> Thanks to jean for buying my very first commission and coolangelsthesis/seventhimpact for beta-ing as always!

Yachi could never have claimed to be graceful. Even before the world went to hell and being clumsy was an inconvenience instead of a death sentence, she was often terribly aware of how quickly and easily her limbs could disobey even the most basic commands. But now, flat on her back on the concrete floor of a warehouse that her survival group was fighting to take back, she looked into the face of an angel and accepted her early death in a heartbeat. 

“Are you okay?” the celestial being might have said, but Yachi’s ears were ringing and thinking was hard and she wasn’t sure if she had a concussion or if she was lovestruck or some odd combination of both. If she lived, it was no question that her group was going to kill her. Well, it was one way or another, really, and Yachi would easily have chosen going out in love rather than going out as a zombie’s dinner. And what was not to love? That shimmering black hair, and how brave to keep it long! And that gentle nose, and those sparkling eyes, and her elegant beauty marks, and the soft frown of concern, and the way her lips pursed when Yachi struggled to answer or to remember how to speak at all. And then the angel offered her a hand, and any thought of her being an enemy to the team was completely wiped out of her mind. 

She stumbled, unsteady, and the other woman caught her, a little surprised and a little amused and a little impatient that Yachi was holding her up from stealing everything she and her allies had worked so hard to find. Yachi couldn’t find it in herself to blame her, really. Those beautiful, soft lips pursed again, probably getting ready to form another question so elegantly, and all Yachi could think of was how wonderful those lips would look under lip gloss instead of the chapped abuse that the wasteland brought to every survivor. But the other woman never had a chance to ask her that question. 

The warehouse door, once secured so tightly but now ruined by intruders, collapsed under the weight of the horde. Zombies shambled in, stumbling over one another in desperate search for their next meal, and the battling factions had to give up their fight for resources in order to survive. Dirty, tired, bloody strangers turned from trying to tear one another’s throats out over canned goods to protecting one another’s throats from impending, stumbling mortality. Yachi’s spirit might have been boosted by their ability to lay down their aggressions and work together to live, but still star-struck, she was pushed out of reach of the nearest zombie and had a front row seat to watch her new hero obliterate its skull with a well-worn metal baseball bat. 

“Get to safety!” she shouted, and this time Yachi heard her loud and clear. She scrambled for an exit and followed her allies like rats on a sinking ship all the way back to the shelter they’d come from. 

She was the only one still in a good mood.

Time passed and she was relegated to guard duty for her own safety and still all she could think of was her beautiful pony-tailed savior, something her fellow guard was slowly getting tired of. To her credit, there was little else to talk of in the new world, and they often joined one another in speculation, reluctant or otherwise. 

“I have to see her again, Asahi-chan,” she mumbled, not for the first or even the third time that morning. Asahi sighed again. 

“It’s the zombie apocalypse, Yachi-chan,” he said, not daring to look at her. “This really isn’t the time for love.” He scanned the browning treeline for the thirteenth time, fingers nervously tapping against the safety on his gun. Neither of them were terribly comfortable being armed, but the environment left them little to no choice. 

Yachi stared at her feet, loathing the ugly shoes that were two sizes too big and left blisters on her ankles whenever they had to patrol the perimeter or run from danger. The designs she’d drawn on them with a pilfered Sharpie had already begun wearing off under a nasty layer of blood and grime. If only she had grown more in high school… If only so many things had gone differently… 

“What if this is the best time, though? What if this is the best time to love?”

“But...Yachi-chan, you don’t even know her name-”

“It’s always in books and movies and manga about the apocalypse, right? Love must go on! It’s the human spirit! It’s what keeps us alive! How are we better than the zombies if we don’t allow ourselves to feel what’s in our hearts and reach out to one another for something other than supplies?” Her tiny hands gripped the strap on her own gun, unsteady with passion and dehydration. Asahi finally turned his head to look at her, his big, gentle brown eyes full of compassion and fear. 

“Did that make you feel better?”

“A little,” she admitted. She chewed on her outburst for a moment, tapping the hollow toes of her shoes together in thought. “We don’t even have to become friends, you know? I just want to give her… this.” She placed her hand softly over her breast pocket, where she’d hidden a tube of sparkly strawberry lip gloss after their last raid had lead them to a pharmacy. Truth be told, she should have spent more time helping to categorize and carry the extremely necessary medicines and edibles, but she’d found herself sneaking away from the group and pocketing her one hope of reuniting with the angel. A gift. Something rare, nowadays. The secret cost to keep, but it was something that kept her going. It made her happy to know that her friend understood, even if all he could preach was cautiousness. If humanity couldn’t survive the outbreak, what was the point of living? 

Asahi smiled and rubbed his neck. 

“I can’t say I’m not sympathetic. That ‘Noya-san...” He blushed and ducked his head, but Yachi smiled at him anyway. 

“I think he likes you, Asa-chan.”

“You- ah- really? I thought he looked terrified of me...” He blanched, remembering their last encounter, no more successful than Yachi’s own. 

“It’s probably lucky that you didn’t end up stabbed...” 

“Ack, don’t say that!” His gripped tightened on his gun and she hurried to console him. 

“He probably wouldn’t have done it! And even if he did, you would have been fine!!”

“I’m not sure...” He looked down at the cement, no longer bothering to keep his eyes on the horizon. Nothing was coming. Nothing ever came. That at least was something both of them were thankful for.

They lapsed into silence then, both uncomfortable and nervous and aching for a simpler, easier time, where a crush was all there was to worry about. In this environment, plights of the heart almost seemed comical. 

“Asahi-chan,” Yachi finally whispered, and he looked up to meet her eyes. “If you saw him again, what would you do?”

“I...err...” He rubbed at the scruff on his face as if this was the first time he’d thought about it. “Honestly? I’d probably run.” 

Yachi frowned. 

“But what would you want to do? What would you do if you were braver?” 

“If I were braver? A lot of things, probably… But...” He bit his lip. “I’d try to talk to him, I suppose.” 

“What would you say?” She leaned against him, watching the sun climb high in the sky and wishing they’d found more water during their last raid. 

“Something embarrassing, probably.”

They watched the clouds move lazily across the grey sky, cicadas chattering in the distance. So much had died and yet those little bastards lived on. 

“I have to know, Asahi-chan. Even if it’s embarrassing. Even if she doesn’t remember.”

There was no use resisting. There was nothing else to keep her here, and the world was too empty and lonely as it was. 

“I know you do,” he muttered. And, taking a deep breath and admitting the kind of defeat he just knew he was going to regret, he pulled a small square of paper out of his pocket and slid it over to her. “Just...be safe, okay?”

Trembling fingers opened the note.

“Ah! This is-”

“Don’t let anyone else know. And please, please, Yachi-chan. Don’t get hurt.”

She threw her arms around him and laughed like she hadn’t in months. 

“I promise!”

***

Terror and misgivings gripped her as she got out of bed late that night to gather supplies for her trip. Judging by the roughness of the hand-drawn map, it was difficult to decide how much food and water she need to borrow (steal was such an ugly word). Luck was at least on her side for this, and the guard in charge of the food let her past with no questions. Fellow guards trusted one another, which may or may not have been a good thing in the long run. But she was coming back, she told herself. She’d just be gone a little while, and she might even make new allies and find new resources in the process! A few missing rations wouldn’t cripple the whole group, and all of them were adults that could hopefully handle the situation.

Maybe they wouldn’t even notice her absence.

Anxiety squeezed at her heart no matter what excuses she could come up with.

She barely made it out of the complex without fainting, but by the time she’d found the river, she’d calmed down from the panic over being caught and shot to a different kind of panic over her angel not being interested in a relationship, or being dead, or perhaps the worst possibility: being straight. 

“I have to know,” she whispered to herself, marching forward along the dry river-bed with every last scrap of willpower she could muster. “No matter what, I have to know!”

This was the zombie apocalypse. Hope was all they had. 

***

Hours dragged on before she found the rival encampment. Half-concussed and star-struck, she hadn’t noticed, but several of her group members has claimed that the rival group was made up almost entirely of women. Imagine that! What kind of Amazonian warrior princess colony did her angel belong to? Should she have been concerned about her being available instead of being heterosexual? And what would the other members think of her barging in, whether her angel accepted her or not? Would she be shot on sight? Maybe this group, like her own, knew that the zombies rarely moved at night, but scavengers sure did.

Would they think she was a scavenger? Would they kill her? Would they tie her up and torture her for information? Would they use her like zombie bait or never allow her to return to her group or string her up for coming onto one of their group members, breaking up their cute warrior princess polysexual relationship and ruining the lives, figurative or otherwise, of not one but multiple people?

She swallowed and tried to focus on keeping her shoes from sucking into the mud. 

Wait, mud? Real mud? Running water mud? She looked at her feet in disbelief and there, glimmering in the moonlight, was real, honest-to-god mud. Her heart pounded in her chest. The rumors were true. More than that, she was almost there. 

She ran through the trees, covering her mouth to keep from laughing. When she’d seen the squiggly line of the river on the crude map, she’d assumed like anyone would that the riverbed stayed dry the whole way. But here, sucking in her awful shoes and drawing mosquitos to her uncovered neck, was proof that somewhere, somewhere close, real water was still flowing. 

How poetic that her savior would be found with it. 

She snuck softly, carefully into the encampment. She spotted several clusters of makeshift huts and tents and she swallowed nervously as she realized that she would have to pass a sentry if she had any chance of breaking through the perimeter. How was she going to get in? What would they do when they spotted her? She hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. Her palms grew sweaty as she realized the kind of danger she’d got herself into. She wasn’t looking and just rejection here. Grenades, torture, shot-gun pellets-

“You there!” She heard the familiar sound of a gun safety and knew in her heart that the barrel was pointed straight at her. 

Oh no. Oh god. Oh no.

She shakily put her hands up and turned, daring her throat to produce language instead of the pathetic whimpers that were struggling to get out. I’m not a threat, she wanted to say. I’m just really, really gay! Please, please, please, don’t-

The clouds shifted. Moonlight streamed down from above, like heaven’s light illuminating the night, and luck found Yachi for the second time that evening. 

“You,” she whispered. 

And the other woman gasped. Her angel. Her savior. 

“It’s you!” Her surprised smile glinted in the moonlight and...was it a trick of the light, or was she blushing as brightly as Yachi was?

“I never thought I’d see you again!” Yachi’s heartbeat thundered in her ears but she willed herself to hear this, if nothing else. “I- Your name- What’s your name?”

“Kiyoko,” her angel breathed, and it felt right, so right! A beautiful name for a beautiful person, and a dazzling smile to match. 

“I’m Yachi,” she whispered back, like it was a secret she’d been holding onto much too tightly. “And-” A deep breath steadied her, and her hand went straight to her breast pocket. “And I have a gift for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please let me know! Your comments keep me writing, even if I don't end up responding to them. A good comment can really make my day!  
> Find me on tumblr for more of my writing (and those commissions you know you want) at fan5fics, or my personal blog, ceilingfan5!


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